


Reflections in the Looking Glass

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance, S/M, b/d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair and Jim deal with the aftermath of a very intense--and surprising--evening.<br/>This story is a sequel to The Other Side of the Looking Glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections in the Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This may not make much sense without having read the first installment. Also: Please be aware that this story deals with very explicit bondage- and SM-related themes. And it isn't light bdsm, either, okay? *grin* It may be too intense for some people's tastes, but don't say we didn't warn you. Our thanks to those who've written about the first installment, and we hope you enjoy this one just as much. We hope to have the third one ready very soon. Comments are welcome! Criticism will be considered, and flammage will be read, giggled over and discarded. We already know this isn't to everyone's taste. If you don't like bdsm -- there are lots of nice stories in the archive.

## Reflections in the Looking Glass

by Cerise and Cerium

Author's disclaimer: These characters aren't ours; we just borrow them to play with every once in a while.

* * *

Reflections in the Looking Glass  
by Cerise and Cerium  
(c) January 1999 

The moment he opened his eyes the next morning Jim knew two things. First, he was damned lucky today was Saturday and not Monday. And second, he seemed to have edited out his memories of certain mornings after, years ago. Because he didn't remember ever being quite this sore, even though he surely had been, and much more than once. 

"Christ," he whispered. Sandburg didn't even stir at his side, which was actually good. Jim managed to ease away from that sweetly warm touch without waking him, and gingerly tried to sit up. Sweat popped out on his brow. "Shit." 

It took ten minutes before he could will himself to walk downstairs to the bathroom, and even then it was only the pressure of his bladder that finally moved him. After he finished with the toilet, he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long time. 

He didn't have to see the bruises on his own flesh to know that more than the way they had sex had changed between himself and Blair. Something he'd thought was gone, or at the very least gone semi-permanently dormant within himself, had returned with a vengeance. And with a completeness that surpassed his wildest fantasies, Blair had matched him step for step. He was more than interested. Blair was a natural. And it was just as natural that his feelings afterward had been shocked and probably horrified. 

<<What do you think, Jimmy? Think Sandburg's just gonna shrug and say, "No problemo, big guy, I'll just, you know, roll with it"? Bullshit. He's gonna freak. You look like shit, and the minute he sees that you'll have to peel him off the ceiling, and then beg him to come within ten feet of you tonight.>>

Truth to tell, Jim himself was a little shocked at what he saw in the mirror. Jesus, they hadn't pulled any punches. His chest was dotted with about twenty different shades of blue, purple, red and black: bruises from Blair's mouth, hands, and teeth. Jim's fingers trailed gingerly over one enormously bruised, distended nipple, and he hissed sharply at the pain of his own touch, at the same time that an image of Blair's flushed, intent face sent a delicious flare of excitement through his groin. 

The rest of him felt little better. Sitting wasn't going to be a picnic, was it? Jim paused, and then snickered a little when he thought about Taggert's donut pillow. Jim didn't have hemorrhoids, but Joel and Simon didn't have to know that, did they? The snickers built up, and Jim slapped his hands over his mouth, because for some reason the idea of himself carrying around a little red plastic pillow with a hole in the middle and trying to explain it away was suddenly absolutely hilarious. 

He leaned against the sink and wanted to groan at the pain in his abused chest and crotch, but he was so busy laughing he couldn't spare the breath for anything else. Not until movement caught his eye, and he glanced over at the door straight into Blair's groggy, startled indigo eyes. 

It took Blair a minute to catch his breath and realize that he was seeing what he was seeing. It took another minute beyond that to make his brain and his vocal cords work in tandem, and by then his eyes felt like they were popping out of his head. Blair swallowed harshly, his breath still catching in his throat. In the bright artificial light of the bathroom the marks on Jim's chest stood out in bas relief, and the lurid colors only drew his eyes. He sucked in another breath and shuddered. 

"My God, Jim," he whispered hoarsely. "What--what did we _do_ to you?" 

Jim froze, and then snickered again, eyes widening as he himself realized how inappropriate the humor was. He reached up to wipe his eyes, shaking his head wildly. "S -- sorry," he managed over another badly-muffled laugh. "Don't know what came over me." Under Blair's narrow-eyed scrutiny Jim flushed beet-red. 

"It's not funny," Blair hissed. "Jesus, man--you look like...like I was beating you or something." He paused and swallowed, feeling his stomach roiling about. Another long look at Jim's chest, then he dropped his gaze further down, gasping again at the angry red of Jim's cock. His mind flashed back to last night and his actions. "Sweet Jesus, Jim," he whispered, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I-- Oh, God!" He turned and bolted from the bathroom, unable to look anymore without the panicked, sick feeling in his stomach increasing. 

As if someone had just sloshed a pitcher of ice water over his head, all the misplaced humor evaporated. Jim cursed under his breath, and then out loud when he went after Blair and all the pain and stiffness he'd momentarily forgotten made him stagger clumsily. He leaned against the door frame and forced the discomfort down, away, while he looked for his lover. Blair stood tensely in the middle of the living room, his face pale as milk. 

"I thought it was all a dream, you know," the younger man said quietly, not looking at Jim, staring away toward the kitchen. "A wonderful, incredible, intense dream. I dreamt about it, I think. And then I woke up this morning, and the water and washcloth were still on my night table, and there was--was blood on the sheets..." His voice trailed off, and Blair turned to look fully at Jim. "Not a lot, but enough. Jim -- last night you said it's not about pain...or not pain alone...but how do you... why... Ah, _fuck_." He shook his head and closed his eyes momentarily, blinking rapidly when he opened them again, his voice nothing more than a thin, hoarse whisper. "I'm not sure what scares me more--looking at what I did to you last night, or remembering how much I enjoyed doing it." 

"How much we both enjoyed you doing it," Jim interjected quietly. He sighed and levered himself away from the door, grabbing a towel and cinching it around his waist before walking carefully into the living area. "Both of us, love," he continued in the same even voice, walking up to where Blair stood stock-still by the couch. Jim stopped next to him. "We should talk," he observed softly. "But I'm not sure I can without some coffee. Sound all right?" 

Blair nodded jerkily, his breath hitching the closer Jim got to him. He turned his face up to look at him, his eyes dark and troubled. "I love you," he said very quietly. "Help me with this--please?" His eyes pleaded for understanding, absolution, something. He wasn't sure what. 

Jim reached out to touch Blair's taut cheek, ignoring the way Blair flinched. "I love you," he whispered with a tiny smile. "More than the world. It's okay, Blair." 

When he took Blair's hand he was startled at how icy it was. Jim lifted it to his lips and kissed Blair's cold fingers before leading him into the kitchen. The absolute normalcy of making coffee seemed to calm Blair down a little; he stood silently at Jim's side while Jim ground the beans, only moving when Jim winced a little reaching over the sink to draw water for the coffee pot. Then Blair took over, leaving Jim to watch him carefully, noting the tightness of his soft lips, the tensely coiled muscles, ready to run at the slightest notion. 

Neither of them spoke as they waited for the coffee to brew. Finally Blair filled two cups and handed one to Jim. Jim didn't miss how Blair curled his cold hands around the mug, searching out the warmth instinctively. 

"Can we sit down? _Can_ you sit down? Do you need anything?" Blair's shoulders were hunched over a little, drawing into himself, but he could no more stop the caring words than he could stop breathing, and he didn't want to. This wasn't about how much he did or didn't love Jim. He'd never stopped -- and never would stop -- loving the other man. This was about being scared shitless over doing something that felt so good and right, and looked so wrong. 

"I'll be fine, Blair. Don't worry." Jim crooked a slanted grin at him. "Although I can't say that sitting down holds very much appeal at the moment," he added wryly. Then his smile faded. "Come here," he whispered, setting his cup of coffee on the counter already half emptied. 

Blair gave him a disbelieving glance, then a ghost of a smile chased across his lips for a moment. He shook his head, not sure how Jim could make jokes, even bad ones.  <He's done this before, remember?> He flinched, hating that voice inside his head. Jim frowned at him, a questioning look, and Blair shook his head again. "Just--my head," he muttered, moving toward his lover. He stopped in front of him and looked up, unwilling to stare at the multicolored bruises with the teeth marks and swollen nipples. 

"Tell me something." Jim's voice sounded a little harder, catching Blair's attention. It was difficult to read the expression in his calm blue eyes. "Was there ever a moment last night when you felt as if you were completely out of control? Any time when you felt like you couldn't have stopped if I'd asked you to?" 

Blair caught his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, frowning as he gave the question serious thought. "I don't -- think so," he said cautiously, his voice tense and brittle. "But I don't...know. Last night was -- different. Way different. I've never--had that kind of power before. That kind of control." He swallowed nervously, dropping his eyes to stare at the pattern of spilled sugar on the counter top. 

"But if I'd said no," Jim pressed intently. "If I'd asked you to stop, if I'd told you you were hurting me too much -- would you have kept on going anyway? Or would you have stopped?" 

"I'd have stopped," Blair hissed. "I can't do that -- it would be like hurting myself. My soul." 

"Of course you would have stopped," Jim said gruffly. "You're a top, not a sadist." He drew a deep breath, scrubbing his hand over his face. "How did it feel? The power? Did it feel good?" 

"Yes," Blair whispered, shuddering. He looked up then, his eyes darkened nearly to black, emotion swirling in their depths. " _Yes_ , damn it, it felt good! It was fucking fantastic! And I'm standing here, staring at what I did to you while it felt so good...and it's scaring me to death, Jim, because...God help me... I want it again." His voice dropped back to a nearly inaudible whisper, his fingers clenching on the counter top. 

Jim sighed tiredly. "We got a little carried away last night. That's probably true." He picked up his cup of coffee and sipped at it. "We don't have to do it again. Not if you don't think we should. But I'm not sorry. I -- I'm not sorry." He faltered, looking down at his coffee, unseeing. 

Blair hesitated, then reached one trembling finger to gently touch the brilliantly purpled bruise on Jim's shoulder. "I'm only sorry -- that it hurts you," he said softly. "No...that's not true. I'm sorry that I'm being -- so freaky about this. I just--I've never--before, and I-- Fuck." He leaned in closer, and brushed his mouth over Jim's, trying not to notice the swollen lips. 

Coffee sloshed over Jim's hand as he thrust the cup in the general direction of the counter top. He leaned forward, pressing up against Blair urgently, his mouth opening under Blair's lips. "Don't be sorry," he murmured thickly. "Don't ever be sorry. Oh God, I love you, Blair." He kissed Blair's mouth sweetly. "I love every mark you put on me. You talk about hurting me, but every mark shows the world who owns me. It's not pain, love." 

<'Every mark shows the world who owns me'. Do I? Own him? Can I? Should I? I want to. Feel like I need to. Shouldn't... But oh, god...the sight of him last night, on his knees...on his back...> His thoughts were a jumbled mishmash of unanswered questions and strange, erotic phrases. He moaned softly and pressed his mouth to Jim's again, harder this time, sliding his hands carefully up strong arms to clench around biceps that were solid and taut beneath his fingers. He broke the kiss with difficulty, staring wild-eyed at Jim, his breathing harsh and heavy. 

"I need--to know more, Jim," he began shakily. "I want this, but I can't drive blind. You said last night --" He paused, trying to draw a full, deep breath into lungs that felt like they weren't working right. "You said I was a 'natural.' What do you mean?" 

"Just what I said. You felt it yourself; I know you did. What you were doing -- what we were doing -- felt right. Natural." Jim shrugged, his smile slow and sweet. "I'm not saying there aren't any rough edges. We need to talk, understand what we both want and need out of this. But the basic roles -- those seem very clear to me." 

Blair nodded, the anxiety in his stomach lessening just a touch. "The basic roles--me as--top? And you as--bottom, I guess, right? But I know you're meaning more than just who's at bat and who's catching. Bottom, as in submissive, right?" His fingers worried at the kitchen towel laying on the counter as he waited for Jim's answer. 

"Dominance and submission." Jim's lips quirked in a fast, abashed smile. "It's more than top and bottom, Blair. It's -- what I said earlier. Power exchange. I give my power to you: power over myself." He fidgeted a little. "That sounds so fucking mystical," he muttered, and then cleared his throat. "So calling me a bottom isn't a complete definition. I mean, if you want me to, I can top. But the power is always yours. Do you see what I mean?" 

"I--think so," Blair frowned, then walked over to the dining room table. "Top and bottom are kind of interchangeable roles, but dominant and submissive aren't as much so. I could have you top me- -but I'd still have the power over you." Blair stared at the chairs for a moment, then sat down, quirking an eyebrow at his lover. "I'm sorry, man. For this, I gotta sit down. I could get you a pillow...?" 

Jim laughed, and then winced a little, narrowing his eyes. "That's okay. I'll live." He lowered himself with almost comical care onto the chair, and only hissed a little as he sat down. "There," he said lightly. "No problem." 

"Riiiight, no problem," Blair drawled the words slightly, his eyes dark with skepticism. He shook his head. Jim was a big boy--if he said he was okay, Blair couldn't push it. "Okay. So. Basic roles and such notwithstanding, you said something about rough edges. How do we deal with those?" His stomach flipped as he eyed the bruises dotting Jim's chest. " _That_ is a big 'rough edge' for me, man," he said quietly, nodding toward his lover. "How do I get past that? No matter how good it felt. or how much \-- we --" he stumbled over the last word, but continued on doggedly, "want it, or enjoyed it, how do I deal with the fact that you look like a domestic abuse victim? And that _I_ caused it?" 

"We deal with it like we deal with anything else, I guess. One step at a time." Jim glanced down at himself, following Blair's eyes. "We establish the ground rules, for one thing. Limits. If you don't like marking me this way, we won't do it." He gave Blair a regretful glance. "But I don't mind the marks," he said intently. "On the contrary. Do you really regret them? Wish you hadn't made them? Or is it just a shock because it's new? Under the surprise, how do you feel when you look at me? Deep down? What do you feel when you see your marks on my body?" 

"I--" Blair's fist closed in on its self convulsively, and he forced himself to look hard at the bruises, at the raw skin around the swollen nipples. He closed his eyes for a second and remembered how good it had felt, last night, the power surging through him; the taste of Jim's blood and sweat on his tongue; the feel of skin giving under his teeth. He opened his eyes quickly, dismayed to find the erotic images had such a powerful hold on him. He was half hard, just with the memories. 

"I feel... good," he whispered, finally. "Like it's meant to be. I enjoyed putting them there. The taste, the sounds you made--the way you responded." He raised his eyes up to Jim's, feeling caught between what he'd been told was right and wrong, and what _felt_ right, right here. "I -- want that. To mark you." His throat felt tight, dry. He swallowed, painfully, and looked at his lover's chest again. "I want to taste you again." 

"You will," Jim murmured, lips curving in a slow smile. "If you want to, you will. It's up to you, love. We make the rules. Nobody else. This can be what we want it to be. You know?" His smile faded as he raised himself carefully off the chair, surprising Blair by going immediately to his knees on the floor at Blair's feet. "I want you to feel good," Jim said softly, sliding his hands up Blair's calves, stroking over his knees before grasping the tops of his thighs loosely. "I want to make you feel incredible. As incredible as I feel right now." He let his hands drop to his own thighs, kneeling in what had to be serious discomfort. But the carved features were calm, filled with pure emotion. "I love you, and I want to give myself to you." His hands turned palm-up on his thighs, open and pleading. "Will you have me?" he asked in a low voice. 

Blair raised a shaky hand and pushed his hair back from his face. "Do you have any idea," he began, his voice thick and ragged, "what it's like to see you kneeling there? God, Jim..." He drew a deep breath. "Yes. I'll have you," Blair reached a hand out and rubbed it gently over Jim's head, caressing it softly. He felt a strange sense of calm move through him, and whispered in a gritty voice, "It's what you need, isn't it. To be _mine_." 

A faint wash of color pinked Jim's cheekbones, but his gaze remained as steady as ever. "In every way," he said hoarsely. He leaned his cheek into Blair's open palm, closing his eyes. "I want that so much, Blair. Maybe -- maybe I need that. Yes." He swallowed audibly. With his eyes still closed, he said, "I get tired. Tired of -- being in control. I learned a long time ago that letting go was a relief. But I never \-- never found someone I trusted, not really. Not until now. You." He raised his head and regarded Blair calmly. "You're who I was looking for, all that time. I just didn't know it then." 

Blair stroked his hand over the short hair, running his fingers soothingly across sharp cheekbones, and swollen lips. "I love you," he murmured quietly. "I want to do this. To be what you need. I think...I think I need it too. I don't know why I feel like that, but it's -- Last night showed me things, Jim. It showed me a side of me I hadn't realized was there. You lay down your control, baby, and I'll -- I'll pick it up." 

Jim turned his head to lay a soft kiss on Blair's fingers. "This is all that matters. We can talk through everything else. The rules, the limits, the guidelines. But it's the love that matters." He grinned, and butted at Blair's hand with his forehead. 

Blair grinned back for a minute, feeling an odd sort of relief. Why, he wasn't sure. Nothing much was really settled yet; just that they were going to adopt this newest facet of their relationship, but nothing more. If anything, he ought to be feeling more anxious. But he was curiously light-headed with relief. "I love you, man." His fingers curled in to cup Jim's chin. "But I need some answers, too, Jim. Do you feel up to giving them to me?" 

"Of course." Jim drew back a little, wincing. "May I -- um -- stand up now?" 

"Oh!" Color flooded Blair's face and he nodded jerkily. "Um, yeah. Stand up." He risked a look at Jim. "Is this -- Never mind. We can cover this later. Get up, babe. Where will you be most comfortable? Because I promise I have a bunch of stuff to ask you." 

Jim grinned again, bracing himself on Blair's chair as he hoisted himself to his feet. "Couch," he hissed with a flinch. "Cushions would be good." 

"Okay," Blair nodded again, his eyes still troubled as he watched Jim's painful movements. "Here's the first rule, lover. _Nothing_ of this magnitude on a night when you have to report in the next morning." He watched with hooded eyes as Jim made a slow, painful shuffle to the couch. "Got it?" 

"Got it." Jim eased himself onto the couch and sighed a little. "Good rule. I think if I had to run anywhere right now I'd resign." 

"I think if you had to run anywhere right now, you'd be dead," Blair snapped, his heart contracting painfully at the thought. He sighed. "I'm sorry. Just -- Give me a little time to get used to this, okay? I'm getting more coffee. You want some?" 

"Thanks." 

Jim watched Blair silently, smiling briefly when the younger man returned with refilled mugs of coffee. The smile faded when Blair sat down, perching nervously on the edge of the sofa. "I know better, Chief," Jim said softly. "If last night had been a Sunday, there's no way I would have let it go that far. And I would bet that you wouldn't have, either. I'll be fine by Monday." His face colored slightly. "Believe me, I know." 

"Yeah," Blair blew into his mug, staring pensively at the dark liquid. He took a cautious sip, then turned his focus to Jim. "Let's start with that. How you know. You've got a -- a history with this, Jim. I'd like to know it." 

For the first time Jim looked the tiniest bit uncomfortable. "Whatever you want to know, Blair. I don't -- not quite sure where to start, though." His flush deepened. "I haven't told anyone any of this; not recently, at least." 

<Not _recently_? Well, that's interesting. > Blair regarded him steadily, his gaze warm, but serious. "The beginning is always a good place," he offered quietly. "Start there. The first time you did -- the first time you subbed." He started to raise his mug again, then stopped, lowering it unexpectedly. "And why. Why'd you want it--then." 

Jim shrugged. "I didn't know I wanted it. It just -- happened." He drew a deep breath. "The first time wasn't really that big. I mean, D/s stuff. Just, you know, fooling around. I was in college. I thought it was just for fun." His eyes met Blair's and then skittered away. "It was the first time -- with a guy, too," he muttered thickly. "A lot of new things. It wasn't until later that I figured out I liked the D/s part too." 

"Were you ever the Dom? Or always the sub? Did you -- You did it with women too? As the sub?" Blair reached out to set his mug on the coffee table and grabbed Jim's hand closest to him. "I'm not judging. I hope you know that, babe. I just want to -- to know." 

"I know." Jim nodded quickly, flashing him a brief smile. "I topped, too, a couple of times. Traded roles." He shrugged. "It didn't fit. Not as well as -- the other. And it wasn't something I did with women. I don't really know why. Just -- wasn't part of the equation. I met a Domme once, incredible woman. Brilliant, fascinating. But it was always men that -- that I wanted that way." 

"I wonder why," Blair muttered out loud, flushing when he raised his eyes back up to meet Jim's. "What are your, uh, parameters, I guess. What do you like--what turns you on. I kind of figured out pain, at least a little," the flush deepened, and Blair forced his eyes to the bruises, letting himself feel again a tiny bit of the excitement that had come with that last night. "But what else? I want to know what I'm working with here." 

Jim paused for a long time. When he spoke, he sounded bemused. "I don't really know. Depends on the person, I guess. Pain is -- part of the process. Hard to describe. I don't think I like pain as such. I wouldn't hurt myself on purpose. But letting someone else do it -- letting them have that much power over me -- that's a turn-on. Big time," he added in a low voice, grinning a little. "As for the rest -- I don't have many limits, Blair. At least not that I've found yet. If the mind set is right, the rest is icing. It's all here," he said, tapping his temple with one finger. "The physical doesn't matter as much as the mental." 

"So it's not so much what I want you to do, as much as how I present it to you, or tell you to do it." Blair shifted his position on the couch, drawing his legs up under himself, lotus style, and faced Jim. "It's presentation...attitude...need." 

"Something like that." Jim smiled faintly. "It doesn't have to _be_ anything except what we want it to be. We make it what we want -- what we need." 

It was Blair's turn to smile faintly; he could feel the muscles in his face move, the ripples of amusement moving through him. "And what if we-- _I_ \--don't know what we need?" He shook his head minutely. "I want to know things. I mean, it's cool to say we'll make it what we want and need, but how do we learn that? You must know what you want and need. And why did this never come up before? If it's something that fulfills a need for you, why didn't you ever say anything?" Blair drew his face up into a slight frown. "Did you think I wouldn't consider it? Accept it?" 

Jim blinked. "Blair, it's not like that at all." He shook his head rapidly, brow furrowing with dismay. "Sure, this is something I like, but -- It's not everything. Not even close to everything. What we have \-- what we've had for a while now," he amended with a tentative smile, "is everything. What we actually do is gravy." 

Blair reached a hand out and touched Jim's cheek, tracing one finger down the sharp cheekbone and over to narrow lips that were full and swollen this morning. Jim's eyes were cloudy, but tender. "What we have -- What we've had for nearly two years now means the world to me." He shifted a little closer and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to Jim's swollen lips. "But I'm very open to adding things that will enrich it -- broaden it." He smiled and leaned his head against Jim's shoulder for a moment, stretching to do so, and whispered. "I love you, babe." 

Jim's nervous smile faltered, leaving him looking shaken and very serious. "I love you, too," he mumbled. The blue eyes were wide and brimming with emotion. 

"Aw, man." Blair shifted fully, moving to kneel next to his lover. He pulled the bigger man into a hug, holding him closely, but loosely so not to irritate the bruises and bites on his chest. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to sound like I was upset or anything. Angry, I mean. This is just It's got me _so_ rattled. Like a love/hate thing, you know? You okay, sweetheart?" 

"I'm okay." Jim ducked his head a little, color flooding his cheeks. "Just -- what matters is us, you know? Not -- that. I don't want you to think that I've been holding out on you, because I -- didn't think you could handle it, or something. It wasn't that premeditated. It was -- a while ago, the last time I..." His voice trailed off. His cheeks were scarlet. 

"Shhh. It's okay." Blair stroked Jim's back, rubbing at the tense muscles. "I didn't mean-- Well, I didn't mean to insinuate you'd been holding out on me. I know _we_ matter...you tell me every day, every night, show me in a thousand different ways. I just-- It caught me way off guard, you know? And I feel kind of stupid, because I don't know jack about this. I mean," Blair grinned sheepishly, "other than the crap you see in porn flicks, or something." He shook his head and leaned back. "I want to know, Jim. I want you to tell me the last time you -- The things you like, things you need from it. You said you don't have limits. Why? And don't--" he reached up and rubbed lightly at a reddened cheek, "--don't be embarrassed, lover. If we're going to play different games, you need to help me out here. You can tell me anything, Jim. Its okay--I want to know." 

Jim dropped a fast, hard kiss on Blair's wrist. "Limits," he echoed in a low voice. His color hadn't lessened; if anything, he was more flushed than before. "I suppose I do have them," he continued softly. "I just don't know what they are. Before, I just -- went with the flow. Whatever they wanted, I wanted. I guess." 

"How extensive is your background?" His voice was soft, very gentle, almost as if he were afraid the bigger man would shatter if he voiced the question too loudly. "And do you want limits? Do you want to work to find them?" 

"I -- played a lot. Here and there. Tried a lot of different things." He shrugged tensely. "Some were good, and some stuff I didn't -- didn't much like, really. Some --" He broke off with an awkward smile. "It was a while ago," he said unsteadily. "I didn't -- care as much as I do now." 

Blair grasped Jim by the arms, squeezing his biceps lightly, giving him a tiny shake. "Jim, look at me." He waited until the older man was looking toward him, if not actually _at_ him, then released one arm to cup his face. "Listen to me," he breathed, his own eyes trying to communicate the emotions he was feeling. "If you're uncomfortable talking about this, I understand. Hell, it's a little awkward for me to ask the questions, and hear the answers. But baby, if we're going to do this, there can be _no_ uncertainties between us. We have to keep communications open, be able to discuss it. I don't want to _hurt_ you, you know? If you want pain, fine. I can do that. I'm--a little ashamed to say I want to give that to you. If you want humiliation, that's fine too. Whatever you want, I can _give_ you, but we _have_ to be able to talk about it. Without feeling embarrassed, or awkward, whatever. That'll take a little time, I know, but we have to work at it. Just like we had to work at teaching you how to use your senses, and how we had to work at admitting what we felt for each other. One more step, sweetheart. I want this. I want to give this to you. But you need to relax a little bit. It'll be okay, baby. Trust me." 

"I trust you," Jim said thickly. "Oh, love, I trust you. I don't know where to start, I guess. Ancient history. Ask me. Please?" 

Blair nuzzled against Jim's neck, his mind spinning in circles. So much to ask, so many things to learn; he felt a deep need to know everything at once, though the academic within him knew that wasn't possible. He kissed his partner once more, then shifted back a little, catching hold of one broad, strong hand, and twining his fingers with Jim's. "What have you ever done that you liked the best?" 

Jim pursed his lips a little, blinking. "That's harder to answer than it might seem," he said with a quiet sigh. "You said 'love-hate' before. That -- sums it up. 

"I should back up," he added after a silent moment. "You must think I was like some kind of major lifestyle player or something, but I wasn't. Here and there, you know, whenever the opportunity presented itself. But not maybe as often as you might be thinking. 

"After I left the military, I was pretty messed up." Jim's arms crossed over his chest, unconsciously protective. "I was thinking about law enforcement work, but I thought about a lot of other things to do, too." He smiled a little. "I thought I'd just travel for a while, surf. Surf my way around the world. Be a bum. I was -- tired of being responsible." His voice trailed off. 

Blair nodded, watching Jim's eyes, listening.  <'Lifestyle player'. Term to file away to bring up later.> "So what happened? You said the first time was also the first time you were with a guy -- and you were in college. But this is years later you're talking here. Did you just pick it back up? What? What happened, Jim?" 

"Before, it was just playing, mostly. Nothing that big. And then I went into the military, and did the Joe Hetero Soldier routine for a few years." His expression turned faintly grim. "Almost had myself convinced it was all just experimenting. 

"And then Peru, and when I got out of the service I just -- didn't much care about anything." He shifted a little, unflinching at the discomfort he should have been feeling. "I met some people, when I was in California. Right after I left the army. What I'd thought was just some weird thing I'd played with a little was much more than that, to them. They knew a lot, and it was just easy to go along with that. I -- That's when I met --" He gave Blair an uneasy look. "Is this what you meant? I want to tell you this, but I don't know if you want to hear it." 

Blair swallowed, and nodded. There were faint tinglings of dismay and unease moving through him, but they were minor discomforts at most. The researcher in him was intrigued, and he ruthlessly shoved that part of himself down, squelching the desire to pump just for information's sake. He tightened his hold on Jim's fingers, instinctively knowing whatever Jim was going to tell him wasn't going to be easy for either of them--to say, or to hear. "Yeah, baby," he said softly, his thumb stroking over Jim's palm. "This is what I meant. This is what I want--need--to know. Keep going. You're doing fine, sweetheart." 

After a silent moment Jim nodded. "I didn't know what to do," he said awkwardly. "After I came back, everything just seemed -- wrong. I went to California to see an old buddy, just look around for a while. Thinking I should find somebody, get married, get a job. And a couple of times I went to gay bars, just -- cruising, trying to figure out if this was me, instead. Nothing felt right. 

"There was a leather bar on State Street in San Diego, and it wasn't so bad, so I hung out there sometimes. I met a guy named Paul. A top." Jim's eyes flickered past Blair's. "He had a lot of answers," Jim said softly. "I guess I thought they were my answers, too." 

Blair stroked Jim's fingers, watching his partner's eyes as they grew distant, pulled in by the memories. "What answers were those, Jim?" he asked softly. "What did he tell you? Show you?" 

"I stayed with him for nearly a year. Ten months. I wanted a place to belong, a place to be. He wanted -- wanted --" 

"What, baby? What did he want? Tell me, Jim. Please?" The last was nearly pleading, and Blair's heart ached when Jim jerked a little, his eyes growing more distant. 

"A slave," Jim said, and then laughed hoarsely, without humor. His face was very pale. 

"Like -- 24/7? No -- just that? Only a slave?" He couldn't get enough air in for full speech, and still the whisper was forced. Blair shivered a little, remembering last night, and calling Jim 'slave.' His stomach roiled, and he swallowed harshly to keep it in place. 

Jim's ice-cold hand covered Blair's own, gripping painfully tight. "I know what you're thinking," he said harshly. "But it's not the same. You love me. Love was not an operative concept with Paul." 

"What was?" The words were hard to force out, because everything in his mind, in his body was _screaming_ for him to leave this place, run, don't look back, never go there again. Blair gripped Jim's fingers, wondering which one of them was colder right now. 

"I don't know." Jim's head swung from side to side, searching for words. "Power? Control? Pain." He paused a moment. "Status. Definitely that. Paul's slaves were reflections of himself. Only the best." 

" _Slaves_? Plural? You don't mean more than one at once, do you?" As hard as he tried, a little of the shock that was moving inside him bled into Blair's voice, making it hoarse and raspy. 

"Four. At least by the time I left. I didn't know about the others at first. I thought -- Well." Jim swallowed dryly. "By the time I found out about the others, I was sure they didn't matter." His smile was brittle as late winter ice. "I needed them not to matter," he enunciated very clearly. 

"Oh, baby." Blair's whisper was half exhaled-breath, and half sob. He squeezed the icy fingers tighter, trying to push down the rage, and pain that were building inside him. "Did you love him? Is that why you stayed with him?" 

"I don't know," Jim said in a faintly clinical voice. He drew a deep breath. "I don't remember thinking about it that way. I don't know if it was love. I just remember wanting to be good at what I did. To be important, I guess. Memorable." 

"Were you? Good, I mean? Or memorable. Either. Both." 

Jim paused, and then nodded slowly. "I was very good," he said softly. "At one point, I thought maybe this was where I would stay. As long as he'd have me." 

Blair shivered at the naked emotion in Jim's voice, in Jim's eyes. "What made you leave?" he asked very softly, his eyes never leaving Jim's. 

This time the pause was so long, Blair wasn't sure Jim had even heard him. "A combination of things, I guess." His smile looked wistful. "God, I haven't really thought about this in years." Now his smile faded. "I guess I fell out of favor," he continued gruffly. "I had a problem being pushy. I guess that doesn't surprise you much, though, does it?" 

"Maybe you were pushy because you weren't getting all of your needs met." Blair reached up with his free hand and stroked Jim's cheek tenderly, his voice soft. "Maybe you were needing something -- some _one_ \-- else." 

Jim flashed him a nakedly grateful look. "No doubt of that," he said thickly. 

Blair leaned forward and wrapped Jim in a hug for a moment, rocking the two of them slowly, letting both regain their equilibrium a bit. 

When his own thoughts had settled a little, he sat back and asked quietly, "Did you -- Did you honestly like it? Or just think you did? I mean, I seemed to, last night. Did you play, after you left Paul? Is that what you meant by love/hate? Or did you mean something else?" 

"Which one do I answer first?" Jim smiled gamely, but it wasn't hard to see his heart wasn't really in it. "I liked it," he finally continued, in a low voice. "I liked it a lot. A lot of the time, at least." He shifted again on the cushions, sighing. "And yes, I played some when I came back here. Why do you think I chose to work Vice?" 

Blair shifted himself backward, scooting toward the end of the couch. He held his arms open and waited while Jim moved slowly into them, settling against the smaller, but very sturdy body until he was comfortable. "I love you," he said absently, petting Jim's arms and shoulders to soothe him. 

When Jim's body was a little more relaxed Blair began talking quietly again. "I'm curious about something here. You said you 'liked' it. But you seem unhappy about that. Do you not like that you like it? I know \-- my reactions, earlier,"  <some of which I'm still having,> he acknowledged silently, "but you're not operating from a first-time perspective. Is that what you meant by love/hate? Tell me what's bothering you, baby. I want to help." 

Jim's body felt tense as iron against Blair's own. Face averted, he said, "I'm not proud of some of what I've done. I don't like what I became, for a while. It wasn't me," he whispered urgently, still not looking up. "Or maybe it was, and maybe I just -- don't like to think about that. I don't know. It's different with you. You don't --" 

"I don't what, baby?" Blair stroked and petted, trying to ease some of the tension gripping the man in his arms. He made his voice low and soothing, inserting just a bit of the edge that Jim had found so comforting last night. "Tell me, sweetheart." 

He waited several minutes, fingers rubbing and stroking mindlessly, just touching the larger body. When the silence grew, and Jim still didn't seem inclined to respond, Blair sighed softly, and shifted to tilt Jim's head so he could look into his eyes. "I think I can answer that for you, lover," he said very quietly. "The difference is that I love you. I want to do this to make you -- me -- _us_ \-- feel good, and to strengthen our relationship. I'll give you what you want. What you need. And I'll cherish you for what you give me back. We'll share with each other, but it'll be _sharing_. If I -- own you -- it's because you wanted to give yourself. Not because I forced you, however seductively, into it." He leaned down and kissed Jim very gently, letting his lips communicate the deeper feelings he couldn't find words for. 

The depth of Jim's response startled him. He pushed up against the kiss, making a low, strangled noise deep in his throat. Still wordless, his eyes tight-closed, face lined with tension. 

"Shhhh..." Blair made the quiet shushing sound against Jim's mouth, then pressed it open to stroke the hot interior of Jim's mouth with his tongue, his arms tightening around the shaking man. His body jerked in surprise when Jim's arms grasped him tightly, squeezing almost too roughly. Blair shivered and pulled away, whispering, "Jim...Jim, baby, it's okay. I'm here, lover." 

"I'm sorry." Jim's eyes were wide with contrition. He drew back sharply, looking horrified. "I didn't mean to do that. I shouldn't -- damn it." 

The sudden withdrawal brought Blair up short, and he shook his head, his mind whirling. "Don't apologize for needing me. For needing comfort." He stared at the older man, seeing the pain reflected in the light blue eyes. Pain of an entirely different nature than he'd inflicted the night before. "Jim, talk to me. Please. We can't go any further with this until it's all out in the open." 

"You should punish me," Jim said dully, shaking his head. "Paul would have. I deserve it for that." 

For a second, Blair wasn't sure he'd heard right; the only thing that convinced him he had was his sudden, inexplicable inability to breathe. There was an enormous weight crushing him, pushing in on his chest. He cleared his throat several times before finding a voice to speak with, then asked as calmly as he could, "What makes you think you need to be punished? What makes you think _I_ think you need to be punished? I _want_ you to need me, to need me to comfort you -- to love you. Look at me, sweetheart." He waited for a span of heartbeats, then grasped Jim's chin gently with his fingers, tugging until he could look into sky-blue eyes that didn't seem to quite recognize him. He made his voice as gentle as possible. "I'm not Paul. _Not_ Paul. I'll punish you when it's merited -- but you haven't done anything to warrant that." 

Jim's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "I pushed. Didn't it make you angry?" 

Blair blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, letting a little of his nervousness and exasperation out in a harmless manner. "No, and I didn't see you pushing, either." He blinked, curiosity building in him, keeping pace with the sudden, flaring dislike for the faceless Paul. "Tell me," he said quietly. "What do you consider pushing? What did _Paul_ consider pushing?" 

"When you kissed me," Jim said awkwardly, looking a bit flummoxed now. "I took the initiative. I've -- I was taught not to do that." He gave Blair a frantic look, shaking his head vigorously. "I know Paul isn't here," he hissed clearly. "I know that was a long time ago. But it was what I learned, Blair. I was trained, Christ, I don't know how to unlearn that. I don't _know_." 

Blair sat back a little; not far enough to lose contact with his lover, but enough to give himself just a bit of space to breathe in. What in the hell was he supposed to say to that? "Jim. I don't know anything about training, or Well, hell. About BDSM, in general, much. But we've been _lovers_ for a long time now. You've _more_ than taken the initiative in the past--hell, you did it last night!" He stared at Jim, his own eyes calm, pushing his uncertainty deep within himself. Jim needed him to be in control right now. He stretched his hand back out and gently traced around the swollen nipples, up to the huge purple bruise darkening one shoulder, then over to touch Jim's lips. "What's changed, babe? Did last night change things for you? I love you, Jim. You kissing me is a joy. Not a push." He paused, wondering if he was making sense, unsure how to tell since Jim's expression still reflected worry. "If we were--if we were in a...a ?--" he waited for Jim's jerky nod at the correct usage of the word before continuing, "--then, I don't know. You might be punished, depending on what happened. But not...not when it's just you and me, lover. I won't dominate you, just to do it, Jim. Never that." 

"What I had with Paul --" Jim swallowed hard. "That's not what I want with you. I love you. Paul didn't love anyone." Out of nowhere a brief, aching smile lit his drawn features momentarily. "Being with you -- Jesus, it's like the best of both worlds. So many things I didn't realize..." 

He trailed off, the smile fading. "You must think I'm one fucked-up bastard," he pronounced harshly, and snorted. "And I guess I am." He reached up to scrub his face with one hand. "On that count Paul wasn't wrong." 

Blair reached out and snagged that hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss lovingly; a brief, sucking kiss to each finger, a tender, loving kiss to the palm of Jim's hand. He placed it palm down over his heart and covered it with his own. "On that count," he began hoarsely, pausing to clear his throat, "Paul was _dead_ wrong, Jim." He took a deep breath, looking into Jim's eyes, willing him to see what was in his. "I don't think you're fucked up. I never have. I never will. I think you're a man who got the raw end of a bad deal when he doing some searching, looking for himself. And I think you need -- You need _me_ , Jim. Because we're like bookends--we support each other. I _love_ you. I want to give you what you need; what you want. If that need is pain, it's going to be the sweetest, most incredible pain you've ever had, because each time I hit you, or bite you, or _whatever_ , you'll know it's because I love you, and I want you to have it, because you want it. Not for any other reason." 

For a terribly long moment Jim sat frozen next to him, still as a statue. Then he sighed almost silently, and bent over to place a soft kiss on Blair's hand, his eyelashes fluttering for a brief second against Blair's skin. "I love you," he murmured hoarsely, and shifted until he leaned against Blair's chest, eyes closing. 

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim, pulling him tight against his body, rocking them gently. "I love you," he crooned very softly, his hands stroking over the taut flesh. "Love you so much, baby." He kissed the top of Jim's head, pulling the bigger man closer. He wasn't going to move until Jim was ready to. 

Jim drew a sharp breath, almost a sob. "Show me," he gasped, and leaned his head back a fraction, baring his throat. "Show me, Blair, show me." 

He could almost feel the subtle shifting within him; it was accompanied by a similarly subtle sense of panic that this should come so easily be _wanted_ so much. "Show you..." he breathed softly, moving his head closer fractionally, watching the frantic working of Jim's throat. "Show you how much I love you?" A little closer. "How much I want you?" A quiet moan rose around them. "Show you how much you're _mine_?" He bit into Jim's neck, scoring the sensitive underside of his jaw sharply, a shudder running through him with a low cry issued from Jim's lips. 

"All yours," Jim hissed eagerly. He stared at Blair through slitted eyes. "Show me." 

Blair stared back, his eyes calm, cool. He could feel the fire stirring in Jim; watched the hunger gaining strength in the eyes that clouded and darkened before him. 

"Always mine, aren't you, baby." He leaned into Jim again, licking at the bite he'd just made, then sucking hard at the reddened spot. "You need proof," Blair murmured quietly, "I'll let you know without a doubt who you belong to." He moved his mouth lightly up the hot, sweaty flesh to Jim's mouth. The usually narrow lips were puffy and a little swollen, and Blair licked at them tenderly for just a minute before reaching out to grab Jim's neck and grinding his mouth down hard against them. He could taste an instant tang in his mouth and wondered briefly which one of their split lips had opened. Then Jim's mouth was opening under his with a groan, and it was too hot and delicious to think of anything else but this kiss. 

Jim grabbed fistfuls of Blair's tee shirt and growled distinctly before sagging backward on the couch. The move caught Blair off guard, yanking him along for the ride. With an impatient sound Jim snagged the towel he still somehow wore and flung it away from them, his legs parting and then wrapping firmly around Blair's hips. 

Blair raised his hands up and pinned Jim's shoulders to the couch cushion, his mouth forcing Jim's open further as he ground his pelvis hard against Jim's, shivering when he heard the smothered groan of pleasure/pain through the low growls still coming from the bigger man. 

He broke away long enough to nip again at the pulse point at Jim's throat, then a little higher, moving back up the corded column. When Jim pressed up against him, rubbing hard, Blair lowered his head again and took his mouth with a fierce hunger that surprised both of them. 

Jim's thighs around his hips felt like steel bands, gripping almost painfully tight. "Show me," Jim groaned thickly against Blair's mouth, and bit Blair's lip once, hard. "Own me, God damn it." He caught his breath in a near-sob. "Own me." 

"I _do_ ," Blair whispered raggedly, his lips moving feverishly over Jim's face and throat, licking and sucking. He paused over hollow at the base of his throat, and licked once, then breathed softly, "I _own_ you. Forever." His teeth flashed momentarily before sinking into the flesh beneath him, his lips sucking hard even as he was biting. 

The frantic grip eased a little as Jim sighed, arching his back to push up against Blair's touch. Blair could feel Jim's throat working under his teeth, the vibration of something that felt almost like a purr. "Yes," Jim breathed nearly inaudibly. "Oh, yes." His hands stroked the back of Blair's head, fingers tangling in his hair. 

Blair smiled against his lover's hot skin, and sucked harder, releasing Jim then with a _pop_ noise as the suction broke. He picked a spot along Jim's right shoulder, mirroring the spot where the huge bruise was on the other shoulder, and gave Jim a feral grin. " _Mine_ ," he said roughly, his voice a hot hiss. "You belong to _me_ , Jim Ellison." He barred his teeth for Jim to see, then sank them hard into the soft skin, twisting a little to dig in deeper. " _Say it_ ," he hissed around the hot flesh. "Tell me who you are." 

"I'm yours," Jim gasped, writhing against the cushions. "Yours, Blair, I belong to you, oh Christ, YOU!" He gritted out a curdled cry as Blair's teeth sank deep. 

Blair's body surged against Jim's, and he groaned, wanting more, but needing to stop them before this got too far out of hand. They had never been able to exercise a lot of self-restraint around each other, and this was adding a whole new dimension to that. With something that bordered on Herculean effort, he only nipped lightly once, then pushed up off Jim, making his voice tight and controlled, his body language neutral. "That's right. You're _mine_ , Jim. My slave. Never any one else's, ever again. Now sit up, baby. We need to finish talking." 

Jim shivered once all over, eyes wide and glazed-looking. "T-talking," he echoed hoarsely. For a moment he looked as if he would object, but he finally cleared his throat and hoisted himself up away from the cushions, wincing. He glanced at the new blotch on his shoulder and then looked up at Blair. "Yes, sir," he added with a startlingly wry smirk. 

Blair returned the grin, his own even more startling for the actual _joy_ behind it.  <'Sir' sounds good.> And for all the uncertainty and fear a lot of these power feelings were generating in him, he liked the surge through him. The rush. He reached out to touch Jim's knee, staying his retreat any further. 

"How do we decide how much we want? And when, and where all that? Do we play with this, jump into it... What works best, do you think?" 

"I'm not sure." Jim looked vaguely startled at the question, shaking his head slowly. "I -- You have to know, I'm not used to being given the choice." 

"I'm sure," Blair responded dryly, trying _not_ to think too much about some of Jim's background--not just yet, anyway. "Paul aside, were you in any kind of relationship with any of the others? I mean--like us? No, not like _us_ , but you know. A long-term, monogamous relationship?" 

Jim snorted. "No," he replied distinctly. "Nothing. Just here and there. You know." He shrugged, lip curling the tiniest bit. 

<Yeah, right, I know. NOT!> The thought screeched around inside Blair's head for a minute, then he looked up at his lover, emphasizing his words very distinctly. "Do you want this? Want to be my -- slave, all the time?" 

A slow flush crept over Jim's features. He licked his lips carefully. "Most of the time," he murmured, keeping his eyes fixed on some point slightly to the right of Blair's face. "With time out, sometimes." His blush deepened. "I don't think I'm good enough to do all the time," he added very softly. 

"I think time off is a good thing," Blair said, keeping his voice calm. Inside he felt like he was being split into two people. The part of him that realized just how _much_ he enjoyed this, and the part of him that was horrified by how much he enjoyed it. He met Jim's gaze calmly, seeing a spark of--panic?--in the clear blue eyes. "Do you want to set a specific day, time -- something? I know, with maybe a little room to play," his eyes twinkled briefly, "work time is off-limits for this. But that leaves us with a lot of other time. I know you're not used to making the decisions regarding this, but frankly, I need your help with some of it. You call me a natural, babe, but I don't have a freaking clue what I'm doing here, not really. I _need_ you to get me started, Jim. I need to lay groundwork \-- figure things out. Can you help me with that?" He glanced at the bigger man and smiled gently. "As far as not being good enough for all the time? I think you're fantastic. I also think I've only seen a little of what you can do -- or want to do. And I can't _wait_ to see it all." 

Jim's face now looked as if it might catch fire: beet-red and absurdly pleased. "I can help," he said gruffly, eyes glinting. "No problem. What -- what sounds good to you?" 

"Can we start off maybe a little slower, until I have the--hang of this? 50/50? I don't know -- What can you take, physically? And when we say 'all the time,' is that like last night, or just like normal, but we know that you'll _do_ whatever I tell you, or Help, Jim!" He grinned at the older man, shooting him a teasing look. 

Jim cleared his throat and grinned sheepishly. "Well, sure. Slower might be good. You know, test the waters some, see what happens. I \-- physically." He lifted his eyebrows speculatively. "This is where I'm supposed to say 'I can take whatever you dish out,' right?" He waved a hand when Blair drew breath to object. "It's not always like last night. I mean, I can take a lot, but that much every night for a week?" He actually laughed out loud, a short gruff bark. "Not that much. But as often as we both think we can handle." 

He paused, looking a little confused. "What was the last bit? Oh." He nodded. "What I'll do," he answered himself more confidently. "That's up to you, Blair. But when we're together -- _together_ ," he added meaningfully, "I will do what you tell me. Gladly." 

Blair shivered in spite of himself, the blatant invitation in that low voice, rolling over him like smooth whiskey. He nodded, his voice holding a slight tremble it hadn't had before. "What do you like? Toys? Restraints? Help me out here. I know you've done a lot, but what stood out as best? What did you hate, what would you like to try again..." He grinned sheepishly at Jim. "You might have noticed I have a few questions." 

Jim's smirk spoke louder than words. "I like lots of things," he began, wincing a little at Blair's answering snort of exasperation. "What I mean is -- Maybe it's easier to say what I don't like. I don't like \--" He stopped, frowning slightly. "I'm not sure I know. I don't like some things, but that's part of the scene, sometimes. Does that make sense?" 

"If I can translate successfully from Jim-speak into plain English, probably." Blair ducked behind the pillow he'd pulled onto his lap to toy with, grinning behind it at Jim's mock glare. "I think what you're telling me is that it might be something you don't normally like -- or like at all -- but in the moment, when all barriers are lowered, it's acceptable." Blair paused and grinned. "Do I have it, lover?" 

Jim nodded. "When it's you," he added shyly, "it's all right. I can't think what I wouldn't do, if you want it." 

Something sizzled in Blair, and he gasped lightly, the sensation racing through him wonderful and a little uncomfortable. <I have to learn to flow with this. I canNOT abuse this. The trust Jim's giving me with this is too precious to fuck with.> He shifted on the couch, stretching his legs out and around Jim. "Do you have a word? A safe word?" 

"'Safeword.'" Jim narrowed his eyes. "How about Darwin?" His grin was infectious. "Although," he added thoughtfully, "I don't anticipate using it." 

"Darwin, huh?" Blair grinned at him, the grin fading when he processed Jim's words fully. "Why don't you anticipate using it?" 

"I don't think I'll need it. I've never used them." His gaze flickered away from Blair's. "Paul used to say I couldn't. That I couldn't say when things went too far. He said that was why he liked me so much." 

In spite of his attempts to push some of that down, to school his face and voice into neutrality, some of his horror slipped out in the form of a virulent hiss. "Jesus Christ." He swallowed harshly. "I can't do that, Jim," he whispered frantically. "I won't. You said it yourself: I'm not a sadist. Pain for pleasure, power for pleasure -- sure, I'm your man. I can hang with that. But I'm not -- I won't go there, Jim. Everyone has something they can't handle. I'll push you to find limits, but Oh god." He closed his eyes for a moment, wanting that control he'd had earlier back. Not the freaky feelings he'd had when he first woke up; that was where he was rapidly heading, if he didn't get it back. Another swallow to try for it. "How badly did he hurt you? Were you ever in the hospital?" 

"A few times." Jim shrugged. "Nothing that major," he added with a quick, awkward half-smile. "Just got, you know, patched up. It didn't happen that often. He just --" He broke off, looking uncertain. 

"He just _what_? Jim, I know some of what goes on. I can't--" Blair drew back, fear coloring his words. "I can't do that to you," he finished in a whisper. "What if something happens, and _I_ put you in the hospital? I _love_ you. Never loved anyone like you. I can't--" He snapped his mouth shut, lips compressed tightly. 

Jim sat very still for a moment, and then reached out to grab Blair, dragging him into a tense, painfully tight embrace. "It's all right," he murmured, hands stroking Blair's back mindlessly. "I know you can't, love. I don't want you to, God, absolutely not." He pressed a hard kiss on Blair's temple. "You're not going to put me in the hospital, and Paul was wrong. I can use a safeword, if I want to. I didn't, back then. I do now." 

He blew a sigh that ruffled Blair's hair. "I didn't want to sugarcoat it for you," he continued quietly. "You should know what you're getting into, or at least who you're getting into it with. I was -- pretty fucked up back then, love. I took a lot of chances, did a lot of things I knew better than to do, because I didn't care." He swallowed. "When I came back from Peru, when I left the service, nothing really mattered any more. I made it home, but my men were dead. I didn't trust my superior officers. I didn't trust anyone. 

"And then I discovered this -- thing. This head space, where trust was immaterial. It was wrong, because without trust bondage is crap. But all I knew was that I wasn't responsible any more. Whatever happened, it wasn't me who was doing it. If somebody killed me, I wouldn't have to live with the guilt. It would be someone else." 

At Blair's tense jolt he sighed. "I'm saying this all wrong." He sat back, one hand going to massage his own temple lightly. "I don't know how to say it right." 

"You -- you're saying it fine, sweetheart. Honest." Blair sighed, then cuddled against Jim. "I'm glad that you didn't sugarcoat it. That's one of the reasons--the main one--that I wanted us to talk before we did anything else. Last night swept us away, but if we're going to do this, be this, whatever, we both have to know all we can, up front." Blair paused, reaching up to stroke Jim's forehead himself. "I just -- you have to know, some of this is gonna freak me out for a little while, regardless. It's not -- I'm not judging you, but it's way different from anything I've ever lived or done, and some thought processes have to change." He stopped, watching Jim's face for a moment. "I think I understand why you did some of what you did. Why you were feeling that way. No, I've never been in the situations you were in, but I _know_ you, Jim Ellison. And I know the unrelieved guilt you're still carrying around over Peru. I can see how the -- freedom -- of being not responsible for your actions would appeal." He reached over and turned Jim's face to his, his voice going soft for emphasis. "But you know you don't have to do that with me, don't you. You can relax and enjoy this for other reasons." 

"Yeah. I know." Jim turned to kiss Blair's fingers softly. The blue eyes were very bright. "Believe me. I know." 

"Will you promise me--and I _mean_ it, Jim--that you'll say 'Darwin' if things feel beyond your ability to cope? In _any_ way. I'll make you promise, if you need that, but I need you to do that for me. At the very least, until we're more comfortable with this, more settled. Then we can re-evaluate, if you want to." Blair paused, his thoughts running into each other in an effort to make themselves known. "And I know it's probably not customary," he began in a low voice, "but for my peace of mind, until I'm -- _My_ safeword is..." he searched around for one, then gave a wan smile, "'caveman'. Okay?" 

Jim goggled, and then burst out laughing, a welcome, easy sound that surprised Blair as much as it pleased him. "'Caveman,'" he echoed, grinning widely. "All right. That sounds like it'll work. Blair, any time you feel like things are too intense, tell me." His grin faded to a sweet, wistful smile. "I can't undo what I did, years ago. It's a done deal. But I'm not going to repeat history here. I'm not the same person I was back then. Not even close." 

Blair leaned forward and kissed Jim, a sweet, easy press of lips on lips, then drew back, his own smile coming easier now. "I know you're not. I don't think I could have been with that Jim. I mean, not that you were a _bad_ person, you know? But we'd have been miles apart in commonalities." His smile faded, though it remained in his eyes. "I'll tell you, babe. And like you, I'm not planning on using the safeword, but I have _no_ experience in any of this. I just want to be responsible, to both of us." His eyes clouded for a moment. "It's a weird dichotomy, isn't it? Wanting to keep you safe, and wanting to hurt you, all at the same time. I know, intellectually, the difference between erotic pain, and _hurting_ you. But on some level it feels the same to me. And as much as I want this too, there is still a little part of me that is squirming very uncomfortably at the idea of inflicting _any_ kind of pain, no matter how bad you want it. It seems contradictory to love." 

"It's a different kind of love," Jim said steadily. "But that doesn't mean it isn't love. Don't think of it as inflicting. Think of it as granting. It would only be inflicting if it were non-consensual." 

"Granting. Granting...granting..." Blair rolled the word around in his mouth, tasting it. "Yeah. Giving you something you want, by doing something I want." He gazed steadily at Jim for a long moment, then reached out and touched the bigger man lightly, over his heart, his words soft, but very clear. "I want this. I want to do this _with_ you. I want-- _you_." His emphasis on the last word made his meaning clear. He was declaring ownership. 

"It's what I want, too." Jim's voice shook, but his gaze was unwavering. He put his hand over Blair's, pressing it tight against him. "And you have me. Heart and soul, love." 

"I love you," Blair breathed, looking into Jim's eyes. "I -- I'll do right by you. By us. This, I think, can only bring us closer. Give us more depth." His eyes sparkled then, and he teased lightly, "Only heart and soul? I don't get your body, too?" 

Color flooded Jim's cheeks. "Every cell," he said in a throttled voice. "All yours." 

"Relax, baby." Blair smoothed one finger down the reddened cheek, smiling gently. "Come here and tell me what your favorite thing is. If I offered you one thing to do, right now, what would it be?" 

Jim's flush deepened. "Let me spend today as yours," he whispered. "Let me show you what I can do. Because I love you, because I want to. Not because I have to." 

"I'd like that, very much," Blair answered, his voice in the same whisper. His hand reached up to touch the large purple bruise on Jim's left shoulder. "I like what I've seen so far," he continued in a low, thick voice. "And I'd like to see more." 

Jim smiled slowly. "Surveying your territory?" he asked in a smoky voice. 

The restless finger continued its journey over to Jim's throat, rubbing at the pulse point before tracking over to the right shoulder, and the new set of teeth marks there. "And if I am?" he challenged in a low, set tone. His eyes met Jim's. "Stand up. Let me see what's mine." 

"Yes, sir," Jim whispered. He stood awkwardly, wavering a little on stiff legs before steadying himself against the arm of the couch. His smile wavered, becoming less certain, but still warm. 

"Here, in front of me." Blair gestured, reaching out with his hand to help Jim balance, then walk over to stand before him. He stared for several long moments, his eyes sweeping up and down the man before him. Torso dotted with bites and discolored with bruises, it was still well-muscled and fleshed out beautifully. Blair flicked his eyes over the swollen, distended nipples, wincing briefly at the redness. He reached up and lightly touched one, watching Jim intently. "I did this." He paused for a moment, feeling a moment of light-headedness sweep over him, replaced by an odd sense of pride. "My marks, Jim." Another pause, then Blair looked full into Jim's face. "I want you to wear some, always. Somewhere." 

Jim's skin had prickled into gooseflesh at the touch of Blair's fingers. He looked at him through half-closed eyes and nodded. "Anywhere, love," he whispered. "Always." He drew a deep breath when Blair tweaked his nipple lightly. 

He sucked in another breath when Blair traced a line across to the other nipple and pulled gently on it. "You're so beautiful, Jim. Strong, and passionate. We're going to be so good together, babe. So good." He pulled a little harder on Jim's tit, giving him a loving smile. 

"I know," Jim groaned, swaying a few inches in Blair's direction. "Oh God, love, I know, so damn good." 

Blair stared up at Jim, his eyes following the tremble in strong muscles, his hands following his eyes, and dancing a slow-dance on the taut, sweaty skin. He flicked a quick glance over the couch and snagged the afghan off the back of the couch and tossed it to the floor in front of him. 

"I want you on your knees, Jim. I want to see you kneeling before me, ready to serve me." Blair let his voice lower, the words taking a tighter clip. He reached out and casually slapped Jim's thigh. "Down, slave." 

Jim knelt, moving with more grace this time, and sat with his hands flat on his thighs. Eyes lowered, he whispered, "Ready, sir." 

Blair leaned forward and touched Jim's chin, then ran his fingers down the slope of one graceful shoulder, moving into the strength of a sculpted arm. He rubbed absently, loving the way the skin could look so hard, so tough, and be so soft. "I don't want you wearing clothes today. Nothing. I want to see the marks I placed on you -- and know that you see them too. In fact, I don't want you to cover yourself with anything, unless I give you permission ahead of time. Do you understand me, Jim?" 

"Yes, sir." A slight flush over high cheekbones was Jim's only reaction. "Thank you, sir." 

Blair nodded crisply, his fingers still stroking. He smoothed a thumb over Jim's reddened cheek, then down over his lip. "Unless I direct you otherwise, you're to kneel beside me today. I'll let you up periodically to stretch your legs, and I expect you to tell me if you have a cramp, but otherwise, plan on spending the remainder of the day on your knees." 

Jim's lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to kiss Blair's fingers. "Yes, sir." 

Sharp blue eyes caught the slight movement, and Blair smiled, letting his voice relax just a fraction. "Go ahead, baby. Kiss my fingers. Worship them, Jim. Show me how much you deserve this." He fluttered his fingers over Jim's lips, teasing them lightly, then dropped his voice to a low, hoarse growl. "Suck on 'em, slave. Suckle like you're on momma's tit." 

Jim groaned almost inaudibly before sucking all four of Blair's fingers suddenly into his mouth, sucking hard and rhythmically. His eyes lifted to meet Blair's, shining with desire and an odd kind of contentment. 

Blair reached around with his other hand to cup the back of Jim's head, drawing it closer to him, and settling his hand against his leg so Jim's head was nearly in his lap. He stroked the short hair tenderly, urging Jim's head further down onto his lap. "That's right, baby. You suck all you want to. Make you feel so good, huh, baby." His cock stirred and twitched, its interest piqued by the eroticism of Jim's action. 

The longer Jim sucked, the more Blair's brain began spinning. There was something in this...it was erotic, it was intense, it was incredibly sensual. And it was worshipful. For the first time since they'd begun talking, began moving in this direction, Blair began to understand a little better what Jim had been talking about. The need, the desire. The letting go of control. He stroked the short hair again, ruffling it and smoothing it. 

"'Down'", he began in a quiet, conversational tone, noting that Jim's sucking stopped for a moment before beginning again, "will mean for you to drop to your knees, immediately. No matter where we are, who we're with, what's going on. I promise I'll never use it in a professional setting, or in a situation that will call attention to us that we don't want; otherwise, anything goes. Do you understand me, jim?" 

Without taking his mouth away from Blair's fingers Jim nodded slowly, once, twice. The eyes that sought out Blair's were dark with pleasure, but not unaware. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a hint of an approving smile. 

"You're so good. Trained well, I think."  <Not that I'd have a clue if you weren't, but it seems like it.> "You look very good there, kneeling before me. I think we need to keep 'Down' handy in the future." Blair wiggled a little against the pressure of the erection growing from Jim's attentions. 

"I think we need another known command. 'Position yourself', jim. You are to be on hands and knees, ass spread wide, or kneeling, doing the same--whichever works best for wherever you happen to be when I give the command." Blair paused and withdrew his fingers, ignoring Jim's tiny start of surprise, and the soft mewl of disappointment. "These are the first two. There'll be more. But they are to be obeyed immediately. Delay will result in one of two things, depending on my mood: immediate withdrawal of any pleasure, or physical punishment. Understand, jim?" 

"Yes, master." Jim nodded again, this time soberly. "I understand." He kept his head low, eyes dropped to the carpet. 

"You're a good slave, aren't you, baby." Blair reached out and stroked the short hair gently. "I'm going to reward you for being so good. You can suck my fingers, as long as you stroke my dick 'til I come, or, you may suck me until I come. Your choice, jim, but pick one now." 

Jim's gaze flickered up to meet Blair's. "Your cock, master," he said, pursing his lips slightly. "Please." 

"Very good, slave," Blair couldn't have stopped the purr that dropped from his lips if his life had depended on it. He shifted and stood up, bringing his swollen groin close to Jim's face. He leaned forward and rubbed himself over his lover's lips and chin, brushing up against the bigger man's nose to scent himself as well. "Take my pants down with your teeth, then suck me. And while you're sucking me, I want you to jack yourself. I want to watch you cream while you swallow mine." 

He watched Jim's skin clump with gooseflesh, but his eyes were darkly happy. "Yes, master." 

It would have been a little entertaining to watch Jim struggle with the sweat pants. Entertaining, had the pressure in Blair's groin been less strident. As it was, he stifled a groan of impatience as Jim wrestled with the soft material, growling with frustration when the elastic resisted his efforts at first. 

Finally Jim freed him from his confinement, leaving Blair's cock underscored by the gray sweatshirt material. With a happy, wordless sound Jim leaned forward to take him in his mouth. One hand slid between his own thighs, almost like an afterthought. 

"That's it, babe. Stroke your cock while you suck mine." Blair's voice had an odd, hissing quality to it now; he shivered, looking down at the erotic tableau before him. Jim on his knees, _his_ marks all over that incredible body, his mouth stretched open to take Blair's cock within. It sent tendrils of icy heat moving all through him. He rested one hand atop Jim's head and nudged his hips forward. "Do both of us, jim. Do it good, babe." 

There was no nod, just Jim's throat hot and wet along the length of Blair's cock. Jim's free hand kneaded Blair's balls in their sac, a slow rhythm in time with the motions of his tongue and lips. He sidled his thighs a little further apart, taking the time to draw a deep breath before enveloping Blair again. 

Blair drew his own breath in, keeping almost in time with Jim's. There would be no rushing the pleasure this time. This time was playing for real; they both knew what they wanted, they both knew they could give and receive it from the other. Slow, melting pleasure began to creep through Blair's body, and he half-closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He could feel the sensuous tickle of his own hair against the back of his neck, and it seemed to magnify the wet, hot glide of Jim's mouth over his aching flesh. His fingers slid through the short, soft thickness of Jim's hair; he was glad the older man had grown it out a little. Still not terribly long, at least there was enough to actually comb his fingers through; enough to anchor in, if he chose. Warmth continued to grow and spread through him, and he tilted his head back down to watch his lover...his slave. The flush of pleasure spreading over Jim's skin was obvious, and it increased the heat moving through him. 

A tiny frown creased Jim's smooth brow, and Blair saw the movements of the hidden hand between his legs start to speed up. The mouth on Blair's cock was more urgent now, sucking harder, grazing with his teeth. Jim's breath came harder and faster, and he withdrew to gasp for air, groaning wildly. 

It was as jarring as if someone had slapped him; the sudden cessation of that incredible mouth sent more shivers through him, and he looked down, a strange fog hovering over his eyes. "I didn't tell you to stop, slave!" Blair's fingers closed over the short, silky strands of Jim's hair, urging his mouth back to the straining column of flesh. "You suck me. You make me come. Now!" 

Immediately Jim leaned forward again, sucking Blair so deep it looked physically impossible. The hand between Blair's legs stole backward, stroking past Blair's tight opening and back to grasp the tight sac again. And all the time somehow working himself as well, although what had been smooth coordination was now jerky, fast and then slower, without any rhythm whatsoever. He drew back to suck hard on the very tip of Blair's cock and ignored the resultant curse, once again swallowing him whole. 

"Sweet whore. Sweet baby... Good boy...make me...come...make you...come..." Blair followed the sucking with shallow thrusts of his hips, pushing his cock in a little deeper, then out again, his body shuddering in time to the rhythm pounding through him. He gripped Jim's head tighter, moving to hold it with both hands, soft grunts and groans rising in intensity as the heat coalesced into something solid in the pit of his belly. He could hear Jim's breathing loud and ragged in the near stillness of the loft, and caught the near-frantic motions of his arm. "So hot...aching...need to cream for me... wanna feel it hit my legs while you swallow...come for me, Jim. You're _mine_...you listen...your body is mine...your cock is mine...your come is mine...Oh--GOD--" It was too much then, the pleasure overwhelming him, spilling over him, no longer containable. Blair felt his fingers clench tight in Jim's hair as he jammed his hips forward, seeking to drive deep into the wet, hot depths, to leave his seed there. A hoarse cry filled the air, and Blair realized with a start that it was him--it was his voice. He shuddered again, his fingers loosening a little to pet and rub at Jim's head. "Come for me...give it to me. It's _mine_ , jim..." 

Jim made a garbled sound and clenched his eyes shut, gasping for breath and then sucking Blair almost viciously hard. Then his eyes shot open and he gazed sightlessly at nothing while his own hips jerked once, his teeth scraping roughly at Blair's cock. 

"That's...it...god...come for me...ohhh yeah..." Even the roughness, the scrape of teeth against his most sensitive skin, was nothing less than an erotic experience right now. And to look down and see thick, creamy liquid still oozing from Jim's cock; to see the beautiful planes of his lover's face drawn up in almost painful pleasure... Blair groaned harshly, pulling himself from Jim's mouth, his own hand reaching down to grasp his cock, rubbing it over and against the red, swollen mouth that was still open and seeking, needing from him. He dropped to his knees, his mouth open, grinding against Jim's even before he was even with him. Blair could taste the heat, the near-bitter aftertaste of semen in Jim's mouth--of _him_ , and it flooded him with deep sense of love, of need, of ownership. He forced Jim's head back, pressing his mouth down harder, tasting a coppery tang suddenly. Hands clutched at him, and he growled low in his throat; this kiss was not about sex, or love; this was all about possession. His. 

Jim moaned against Blair's mouth, a rich, luxuriant sound so filled with pleasure Blair felt his skin clump into gooseflesh. He leaned his head back even further, presenting his throat for Blair's inspection. 

Another low growl curled around them, resonating from deep in Blair's chest. He moved his mouth downward, sucking at the sweaty skin, adding nips and bites randomly. "Who do you belong to?" he questioned hoarsely against Jim's throat, swallowing reflexively when the pale length moved with Jim's own swallowing motion. "Who do you serve? Who do you service." He waited the span of a heartbeat before sinking his teeth into the curve of Jim's neck. 

"You," Jim cried, the word morphing into a groan of pain. "You," he repeated a second later, "just you. You." His voice trailed off to a bare whisper, the same word over and over like a soft mantra as Blair licked his savagely bruised neck. 

"That's right, baby... _me_..." Blair paused for a moment to suck at Jim's Adam's apple, then resumed licking at the rapidly darkening bruise. "All mine...only mine...always mine." He sucked at the hot skin, one hand skimming down Jim's chest, pausing to pull on hot, swollen nipples, a dark smile curving his lips when Jim groaned, then arched toward him. "You like that. You like the bite of pain." 

"Yes," Jim hissed breathlessly. He shivered wildly at the touch of Blair's fingers. "Yes. I love it. I love you." When Blair tweaked his nipple again he coughed a hoarse cry, turning wild, bottomless blue eyes in his direction. "Yesssss," he whispered. A wanton smile lifted the corners of his mouth. 

An answering smile, filled with dark promise, curled Blair's mouth upward, and he leaned in to whisper hotly against Jim's ear. "I can give you more. I can give you all you'll ever need, all you'll ever want." His fingers moved restlessly over the turgid bit of flesh, and without warning he pinched hard, his own body jerking slightly in response to the hoarse sound pulled from Jim's throat. He leaned in closer and whispered. "Love you too." 

Jim nodded frantically, groaning low under his breath. "Please don't stop," he choked, his voice so thick the words were hardly recognizable. "Thank you thank y --" His breath caught when he had to swallow. 

He knelt there, panting, for a just a moment, then stood back up, shifting closer to Jim, until his crotch was level with his lover's face. Blair cleared his throat once for measure, then rasped, "Clean me. Use your mouth, use your tongue, get it all up. Wash me, jim." 

With a shiver that might have been a nod, Jim levered himself forward and touched Blair's cock with his tongue. His eyes opened finally, blank and mesmerized, as he carefully licked all traces of Blair's orgasm from his flesh. The tip of Blair's cock between his wet lips, he finally looked up, meeting Blair's eyes. 

The younger man shivered at the intensity of that look. "You want to suck it again?" 

Jim's eyes closed slowly, and then opened again, his expression almost dreamy. Unseen inside his mouth, his tongue feathered against the slit in the tip of Blair's cock. 

Blair bit his lip and stifled his moan; that incredible tongue felt so good moving against him. He reached down and stroked Jim's head. "You're a good slave, aren't you, jim. Suck if you want to; I doubt you're going to get much out of me." He let his eyes wander down Jim's body, still not quite able to grasp that this man would bow willingly before him. 

Jim sighed a little, his breath puffing warmly against Blair's damp belly. It wasn't so much erotic, as throat-clenchingly loving; Jim's mouth was a sweet, hot haven. His hands came up to touch Blair's thighs, not urgently, just balancing a little. His fingers were trembling. 

"So good, baby..." Blair let the quiet croon echo around them, and continued stroking Jim's head. 

Blair let Jim suckle and nuzzle for several minutes before easing the bigger man off him, then sliding to his knees before him, his arms going around Jim, holding him close. "Love you," he whispered into the soft skin of Jim's neck. His lover smelled like him; the scent of semen--and other things--clung to him. To both of them. "Come on, lover, we need to clean up. I need to look after you." 

Jim drew away a little, turning a regretful, dazed look in Blair's direction. "I can do more," he whispered hoarsely. "We don't have to quit if you don't want to, Sir." 

His own fingers were trembling now, Blair noted with detachment. He shook his head. "We're not _quitting_ anything, _slave_ ," he offered very quietly, but reinserting that edge that seemed to comfort Jim. "But right now, I need a breather, and I need to clean you up. Then we'll see." He paused, pulled back for a moment to watch his lover. "You trusted me enough to give your power to me. Now trust me to know when we need to take a time-out. If you can't do that, then we can't do this." 

Jim nodded after a moment, still not losing the dazed look. "Yes, sir. Thank you," he added softly. 

Blair held Jim's eyes with his for a moment, then nodded and gestured his lover toward the bathroom. "I'll see you in there in just a moment." He didn't wait before turning to see if Jim would obey him. He knew he would. And knowledge of the obedience sparked inside him. This had been unexpected and still had him antsy... but it was going to be good. 

So very, very good. 

To be continued 


End file.
